


Borrowed Time

by mimesere



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl (2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 18:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2035068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimesere/pseuds/mimesere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It'd be easier to send a ship of the line onto its side in a calm sea with naught but grape shot than it was to set the Commodore off his balance with mere words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Borrowed Time

If one went by the name, say, of Captain Jack Sparrow -- which he did and there'd be no denying of it by any soul in the Caribbean including himself, unless, of course there were circumstances in which the name of Jack Sparrow led to unpleasant consequences such as death and painful death -- the one thing that you did not speak of with a certain Commodore James Norrington -- and wasn't that just a mouthful of a name, poor lad being saddled with a name longer than he was tall; Jack felt for young James, truly he did -- was about the loss of the Interceptor.

Of course, if one went by the name of Captain Jack Sparrow, one was not supposed to be conversing with the fine Commodore at all, never mind a discussion of a ship lost first by the Commodore and then by himself. Truly, it was sad the way the Commodore managed to work himself into a temper whenever Jack mentioned the ship, or the merchantman he'd taken, or the fine French brandy he'd borrowed -- _borrowed_ , said Jack, and hadn't he come back this time with a bottle or five of the Caribbean's best rum? And wasn't the Commodore a man of His Majesty's Navy? And therefore, wasn't rum like mother's--

"Enough," said Norrington, holding up one hand, as if such a feeble gesture could stem the tide of words. Words, Jack had realized long, long ago, were as much a weapon as cutlass and pistol and a good bit more effective than either if one's intention were not to kill -- horrible word, that -- but to knock a man off balance.

It never seemed to work on Norrington, damned nuisance of a lifelong sailor as he was. His sea legs were almost as much a part of him as Jack's, and he was deeper on the draft than most. It'd be easier to send a ship of the line onto its side in a calm sea with naught but grape shot than it was to set the Commodore off his balance with mere words. 

Jack affected his most put upon expression. 

Norrington's frown grew fiercer. "I distinctly recall making it clear that if I saw you again here, of all places, that I would be forced to arrest you."

" _I_ recall you saying that if I showed myself here again, you would be happy to see that I hanged. I also seem to recall you saying that killing me once wouldn't hardly be enough to satisfy you. Tsk, Commodore, that's hardly a good Christian sentiment, is it?"

Norrington closed his eyes and bit his lip. After a few moments, he looked back at Jack and asked, admirably calm and not at all what Jack was after, "Why are you here?"

"I'm returning your rum," said Jack promptly. "That I borrowed."

"You _stole_ my brandy," snapped Norrington. "Stole, Sparrow. I did not give, nor did you ask, my permission before making off with something that did not belong to you. Do you see the distinction?"

"Here now! I never stole it!" said Jack, leaning forward and pretending at indignation. He pounded the table between them for good measure and had reason to be grateful for its presence when Norrington stood suddenly, looking for all the world as if he would skip the noose entirely and throttle Jack with naught but his bare hands. "You said that you would give anything if I would cease to treat Port Royal as my own personal port of call."

"Mr. Sparrow," said Norrington in hanging sort of voice, "as you have seen fit to consider that a bargain between us, I must point out that you are, in fact, here. In Port Royal. Therefore you have reneged on your side of said bargain and have forfeited all rights to my brandy, my time, and my patience." He sat back down heavily, resolute in his determination to ignore Jack. He pulled a logbook closer and reached for a quill. "You have until dawn."

Jack sat himself down on the desk, nudging aside a pile of papers that tipped and slid gracelessly to the floor. Norrington watched them fall, his hand curling into a fist on the table. "Why not now?" asked Jack. 

Norrington turned that steady gaze from contemplation of the mess on his floor to its maker. "Very well, you have an hour."

"You won't do it," said Jack. 

"Half an hour," said Norrington in reply. 

"If you hang me, you'll have no one left."

"If I hang you," said Norrington. "I shall have peace."

Jack smiled slowly and held up one of the bottles invitingly. Norrington rolled his eyes. "If you had peace, Commodore, you'd be dead of boredom within a week. We're men of action, you and I." Jack managed to pull the cork free and took a healthy swallow before offering it to Norrington again. To his delight, Norrington took the bottle and drank before handing it back. Jack took another drink. "You mark my words. One day, they'll tell tales of us. The infamous pirate hunter who cleared the Caribbean of all manner of blackhearted scoundrels and the one pirate he simply could not catch." If one went by the name Commodore James Norrington, it was assured that one's besetting sin and Achille's heel would be pride. Jack'd stung it good and proper and all that was left was one last little push. "The best pirate anyone had ever heard of."

"That would be you, I suppose?" said Norrington, half caught between amusement and annoyance. 

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow," said Jack as if it was obvious, which it was, even as he leaned forward, curling one hand around the back of Norrington's neck and tugging him forward, long enough to steal the taste of rum from Norrington's lips. And then he was moving, off the desk and away while Norrington was still caught off balance and regaining it all too quickly. Jack was at the door, bowing with a flourish. "Until dawn, you said?"


End file.
